


Team Spirit

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Underwear, Underwear Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scully, what are you wearing?” he asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: 10.03 "Mulder and Scully Meet The Were-Monster"  
> A/N: My take on the fabled Knicks t-shirt.  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Scully doesn’t argue when Mulder tells her they have to leave the motel. She doesn’t even ask questions. She just slides out of bed and reaches for her suitcase. Mulder isn’t looking at her bare legs as she bends over, of course he’s not (okay, maybe he is, but she knows what to expect by now), but as her nightshirt rides up her bare thighs, he catches a glimpse of blue and orange.

“Scully, what are you wearing?” he asks.

She straightens up. "It’s commonly known as a nightshirt, Mulder. Sometimes pajamas just seem too fussy to pack.“ 

“Not the shirt,” he says. "Under the shirt.“

She crossed her arms over her chest and raises one eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to consort with me while on assignment, Agent? Because that seems like a personal question.” She licks her lips, which doesn’t at all hide her smile. 

“I’m a trained investigator,” he says. "And I can’t help but notice that you appear to be wearing New York Knicks boxers, Agent Scully.“

"Do you have jurisdiction over my undergarments?” she teases. 

“We’ve crossed state lines together,” he says. "That makes this a matter of federal interest.“

"Federal interest,” she murmurs in a warm, husky voice. "I see.“

"I don’t recall you being a New York Knicks fan, Scully,” he says. "I do recall personally owning a pair of New York Knicks boxers, which I now can’t remember having seen in the last…while.“

"You’d think such a passionate fan would keep better track of his merchandise,” Scully tells him, turning away. This time when she bends to pick up a pair of shoes, she’s definitely taking no pains to stop her shirt from hitching up and showing the hem of his Knicks boxers.

He reaches out to tug at her shirt and she playfully pushes his hand away. "Not without a warrant, Agent,“ she says, her smile almost a grin. 

"You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?” he asks.

“I certainly am,” she says. 

“What if I were to demand that you take those off right now?” he asks. 

“I’d tell you you need a better line than that to get me out of my clothes,” she says with a wink.

“My clothes,” he grumbles. 

“I don’t seem to recall this kind of resistance when I wore your Knicks t-shirt,” she says, stepping closer to him. She’s so short in her bare feet. He has to tilt his head to gaze down at her.

“That was different,” he says.

“Was it,” she says. "For what reason, I wonder. Maybe because your Knicks t-shirt was worn so thin it was almost transparent?“

"Maybe,” he says.

“Or was it because you had the privilege of taking the Knicks t-shirt off of me on several occasions?” she says, pretending to be thoughtful even as her fingers graze the hem of his decidedly non-Knicks shirt. Scully’s always had a knack for hands-on learning. 

“Might be that,” he allows, his mind starting to wander further and further south. "Maybe it’s just that we weren’t on a case.“

"We were that one time,” she says, and the shiver in her voice runs up and down his spine. 

“Oh,” he says, and has to clear his throat. "Yeah. Just that one time.“

"But I suppose,” she says, “if you really want them back….” She’s almost pressed against him, her fingers splayed over his belly. Her shoulders tilt oddly, and it takes him a moment to realize that her free hand has slipped under her nightshirt to tug at the boxers. They fall to the carpet at her feet with a little whooshing noise. She steps neatly out of them, leaving them on the floor in front of him. 

“There you are,” she says. 

“You know what,” he says, “I’ll get those back from you later.”

“Whatever you want, Mulder,” she says, smirking at her suitcase. 

He hesitates, then picks up the boxers and drapes them over the eyes of the fox on the wall. "How long’s it take to get a warrant in this town, Scully?“ he asks. "I ask as a professional investigator, just in case I uncover any other mysteries within my jurisdiction.”

“Depends on who’s asking,” she tells him. "But I think you’ve got a good shot.“

"I’ll check back,” he says. "After we’ve checked out.“

"I’ll try not to skip town before you have the chance to conclude your investigation,” she tells him, and it’s like the time they spent apart was only the blink of an eye. 

“See that you don’t,” he says.

“Give me ten minutes,” she tells him, hooking a pair of impractical-looking lace-trimmed underwear out of her suitcase. "Although I have to say this seedy motel is bringing back some memories.“

"Good ones?” he asks.

She licks her lips again as she studies him. "Good enough.“

"Ten minutes,” he says. "We’ll find a slightly less suspect dump. It’ll feel just like home.“ 

He walks out of her room and closes the door behind himself. "Just like the old days,” he murmurs to himself. "For better or for worse.“


End file.
